The Humour Apocolypse #2

Okay, I know, I haven't posted in ten whole days. Ten. Whole. Days. No one's complained to me of course, but Mr. Non-Existent cares. How can't he care? He cares dammit. Someone must care about me! Even if it does mean that I have to become delusional and woosh (woosh? "Woosh" isn't even a word*. There is a word I want to use instead, but I can't remember it. Whip? Yeah, whip works too) up an imaginary follower, because imaginary followers are worth being crazy for.

Anywho, my procrastination is probably because two of our subjects combined a homework task (placing me with a boy** who is incapable of sitting still without putting fish nets and cheese cloth over his face. And yes, he did this, he also stuck his nose in the disk slot in a school computer's hard drive, it doesn't get much more fun than this) where we did some big group project that we didn't even get assessed individually for. It doesn't even count towards my future years of endless education, but they made us do it anyway. It's stressed me out quite a bit so yeah, I haven't felt very funny lately, I could make bread die of boredom because all I can do at the moment, is complain. Not even in a hilarious way. It's just complain, complain and complain a little (lot) more.

Anywho number two, because that rhymes and it's the second time I said anywho, I worked on a second one (because I'm too unfunny at the moment to write blog posts) and well... yeah. I just wanted to rhyme "anywho" with "two". Click on it for a larger version, because Blogger hates me.

 

*It turns out "Woosh" is a word, it is just spelled "Whoosh". I thought it was a word, I'm sorry for lying to you guys. Whoosh, is a word and you could probably whoosh up an imaginary follower.

**This is not a good idea. I cannot talk to people I don't know, let alone boys. They're not (at my age) good people to talk to. Most of what they say is a blabbering mess and then they (purposely, not like myself who says stupid things without knowing they're stupid) say inappropriate comments about/to you that usually don't even make sense. Their best "comeback" is your mum/face (I don't mind it, but when you're trying to have an actual conversation and you're lets say, seriously telling them that they shouldn't kill you because that would be stupid their comeback is "your face shouldn't kill you", it's annoying) and they just can't sit without doing something silly. Of course there are exceptions, but they obviously aren't human and are some brilliant creature that we should replicate so then the world would be full of brilliant people, rather than boys.

A Camp Experience or so (and a Very Happy Possum) - 1

Camps were never great for me. I didn't talk to people but still tried to participate in the games and activities set for us, despite being ignored or rejected from any social interaction.

My stupidity, at the age of 10, made my year 6 camp difficult for me. Of course, teachers were stupid too for thinking that someone like myself would want to go, not talk to people, end up having sand stick to them for a week and being forced to either boss and yell or to put up with those who seem to be unable to stop talking, at 12 at night, for even a few seconds. I mean, now I'm one of those people, but I know when to shut up if someone's threatening to maul you with a bear.

We had various beach activities - beaches being sand and water - two things that do not mix well and should really improve on attempting the same terrain as concrete or grass. I think that those two grounds have little advantages other than occasionally grazes, cuts, heads splitting open upon falling down, stains etc. One of these was surfing. Yes, where I live surfing is not such a big thing, but the teachers decided that it was a good idea that those who are not at all coordinated should be forced to try and basically walk on water. I'm not bloody Jesus (it was him who walked on water, right? Laugh at my stupidity please), sure the rest of the class is, but you've gotta cater for me too, right? For me, surfing was me falling over in shallow water (despite being a giant compared to the class, I wasn't allowed out further) and I swear I could have accidentally killed myself if I hadn't given up.

We also had limited shower times. My shower seems to consist of me standing there and not doing anything at all for about 10 minutes. This was not acceptable at camp because otherwise you were probably thrown out and brutally murdered, so we did not spend too long. This meant that I was covered in sand for about a week until I got home

This camp though had advantages. My year six teacher was a lovely woman, she was super cool and she understood me dammit, we got each other, it was like our minds were connected (or she just also had a socially-awkward childhood). Both of us had curly hair that looked as though we had a pterodactyl attack at our head although hers was ginger and mine was brown - this though, did not matter as a silhouette. Sure, she was a little taller and plumper than I was (although I was a little chubby as a kid) but this worked all worked out in the end when everyone else did not stop talking at midnight. I got up, walked down the isles of beds in an attempt to tell someone to shut the heck up or else, but found out that they were quiet, leaving me in a pile of confusion. Only walking back did I hear "Is the teacher gone?", then realised that I won without having to try, I didn't have to interact with these children in order to get my way. All I needed was to walk grumpily and be in complete darkness and I would be God. God, for goodness sake, I was their master and they would do what I say.

Now that I look at this, I write really long paragraphs about crap that I doubt many people want to read. I'll stick this one into a two-parter too. Sorry.

BUT! It turns out at least two people want to read what I write, or draw, or whatever these crazy people like about me. A week or so ago I got my first Comment and yesterday got a follower (click these links for super-awesomeness) which gave me that warm feeling inside (and sent me smiling all day because guys, I'm frickin' hysterical! You can't tell me that that is not brilliant) as though I've just been given a "you got your first comment/follower" cupcake. And this is a cool cupcake, not a failed mess made just so you have something to eat and devour for lunch, these are super professional cupcakes with blue icing (blue is way more professional than any other colour, of course).

The Humour Apocolypse

Something I got thinking on, what happened if *somehow* (this is a hypothetical situation, remember) the humour disappeared from the world, we couldn't laugh and make jokes.

Anywho, I planned to make some comic strips in between blog posts, so here we go.

PS. I know I spelled "humour" wrong, I'm too lazy to quickly change it and export it again - that would just be too much effort.

PPS. My drawings are crap, I can sketch but I can't cartoon. I know. It looked nothing like I had in my head, imagine it professional and more cartoon-like and with better writing because I need a WACOM but I can't afford it. I cannot draw with a track-pad. I cannot draw.

PPPS. Click to make it a lot larger because Blogger once again is planning to annoy me every time I try to post.

Reasons you Should buy a Bearded Bragon...

And Super Awesome (Fictional) Facts!

Okay, this was what I was planning on leading up to with my "pets" series, but couldn't fit it in all the awesome reasons as to why they're super awesome. Bearded dragons are frickin' cool, they're like the bears of the reptilian species. If you ever saw a bearded dragon, well you probably wouldn't, because they go into this super duper stealth mode whenever they see anything pass. It's not because you're danger, it's because they're waiting to attack, even though chances are, they'll be behind glass bars, they will always get out and get you. 
This is a good thing, it means they love you. It's like when you (crappy) cat (oh, I didn't mention about my cats in the last posts did I? I've had two, they were both typical cats and both hate me and I might ramble on about them later on in time) brings you a cockroach or a bird, he means loves you by slaughtering other animals despite your vegetarianism and your likeliness to take this offering of love as an example of how your cat is really planning on murdering you in your sleep unless you reply to its death threats, unless of course you (for some reason) love cats and do take it as an offering of love. Just don't come crying to me when your partner, children, parents, friends and yourself are murdered in your sleep. I don't care, you gave in to cat even though you knew it was a death trap.

1) They're frickin' ninjas.

Ninja bearded dragons are extremely hard to draw, appreciate it or I will Defenestrate you.

As I covered in the first paragraph, they're like the bears of the reptilian species. Bears are probably not so good at being ninjas, or maybe it's just because in your towns they're hard to spot - they're ninjas, and ninjas are hard to spot. Back to the point, these guys are stealthy (they're reptiles for goodness sake, they can't not be stealthy) and mean. They will attack you at any point just to show they care.

Who doesn't love to wake up with scratches engraved into your face to know that it's because your bearded dragon thinks that you're the best thing that has ever happened to it. I feel like crying (tears of joy) just thinking about how I wish that someday, I will have a pet that will love me as much as your beardie.

2) They're super tame (and cuddly)

Even the babies hardly bite, unless they think you're food of course, but that would be hard to do because you're not food unless they secretly do kill you in your sleep, in which case, they probably eat you too. 

They're like super child friendly, yeah they won't murder your children, parents, partners or friends in their sleep because they really do love you (unless you starve it or simply don't like it - if I were a bearded dragon, I would hate you too)

It's hard to come up with something funny when you've got something nice and heart-warming to say.

3) They look adorable

I would find it really hard to say "NO." to something that cute, look into his eyes and see the ferocious "I want to kill you" look the love that he is willing to show to you by killing your family in their sleep snuggling up to you whilst doing work, watching TV or whatever you do in your spare time - I don't want to know.

4) Because I told you to.

Do it dammit, and give me one too (did I mention they're super expensive for someone unemployed and still at school?)



I'm struggling to come up with more reasons, I had a whole load in my head earlier but I just unpacked all the boxes in my room and am now in a relatively boring mood. I might update it if I feel funnier. I apologise for the crap I wrote after my ninja paragraph.

Also, I put everything in a slightly lighter shade of grey just so you know that it's not true, because unless it's a real ferocious man-eating animal, I would never recommend a ferocious man-eating animal to you.

And to you, Blogger, I would just like to say that I hate you and your formatting that ends up putting huge spaces in between what I say and then scrunches my words up all together so it looks like I don't have any ability to write paragraphs. Grammar loves probably hate me now and it's all your fault.

Oh, and for anyone who wants to know, singing "In the Jungle" loudly (with a voice that sounds like you're busy being mauled by a bearded dragon whilst falling off a cliff and attempting to place "Snap!") wherever you walk with your family is not only a way to get them to hate you, it's also super fun and doesn't make you sound like a maniac! It's all fun and games when your mother joins in and your sister walks off in embarrassment (although secretly she enjoyed it), but when you continue to do so for the next ten minutes/half an hour, don't expect them to still love you unconditionally. 

Too many pets, want more. (Part 2)

In between my second and third dog I've had a variety of pets. Okay, probably only two different sorts but I also liked to keep snails at the age of 5-ish too. Snails are (were) cool, even though they died all the time (probably due to starvation and a lack of oxygen caused by the sealed plastic containers I had kept them in). I went to my Nan's once and noticed an old empty fish tank, realizing that you can keep fish as pets (how cool is that!); this started my obsession for wanting fish. Mum told me to start out with goldfish, so of course I did. I wanted some cool tropical fish (like Dory and Nemo, although I don't think that movie had come out yet...) but those were expensive and she I assume was testing me to see if I could actually care for fish. It turns out I couldn't. My Aspergser's Syndrome causes me (okay possibly causes, I'm not entirely sure if this terrible sort of procrastination is even counted under something like that) the procrastination of someone who procrastinates a lot? I don't think you can even get a simile for that.

Anywho, I, being the terrible person who doesn't quite understand that starvation is the cause of fishes' death, actually procrastinated on feeding them. I would starve them because I just could not be bothered at the time and would put it off... for a couple of days later. I was terrified and traumatized by the amount of fish that just died on me. This wasn't my entire fault though. 

 My sister's friend's evil brother once committed the worst thing you can ever do to someone's pets, he actually went up to my room, spotted my fish and then noticed the cleaning chemicals, food and other crap lying around on my desk full of crap. He being like.. 5? (This is when I'm around 8 years max), decided that this would be a recipe for disaster and trouble so he opened everything and poured as much as he could down into my fish tank (with a silver and orange goldfish, Speedy and probably something like Shiny, I can only remember Speedy's name). I went upstairs to be anti-social and discovered that my fish tank seemed a little dark, and a little bit full of food, screaming I ran back down. Speedy though, must have gotten super-living powers (or he just over-ate the food from that day), because he lasted over a month, he was my longest living goldfish and never will I forget him; but as for that kid, well he was never welcomed into my house again.
I must admit, at least the fish got fed that day. I probably wouldn't have done it otherwise.

We then of course, moved on (By "we" I mean my sister and I, she finally felt that she was ready for a pet). Budgies, they were cool, pretty and looked like they would be a cool child-friendly pet. They weren't.

For anyone who has never had one, budgies are ferocious pterodactyl velociraptor birds, not even birds, they're like pretty flying small bears. Think of that, a killing machine bird that manipulates you (by it's looks, bird can't talk from what I know) into wanting to buy it and then attacks you after you feed it, clean it and house it just because it is a mini-velociraptor-pterodactyl-bear bird.

My sister had a blue budgie, it looked like every other budgie because on average all budgies are blue. She called it Dory, because Finding Nemo was cool and Dory was blue... my sister was imaginative when it came to finding similarities between fish and birds. My budgie was green, not many budgies there were green so I thought my pet was unique and special, this was only a strategy of their mini-velociraptor-pterodactyl-bear manipulative ways to kill me. I called him George, it turns out later in life that this is a name that I tend to call a lot of things, along with Mr Cuddles, Bob and It/Thing (although I also ended up calling a toy of mine Bigel after a Bengal Tiger (even though it was an orange tiger, I'm pretty sure Bengals are white) and sort of Nigel Thornberry off "The Thornberrys". 

We decided that it would be a good idea to tame them, so unlike fish (because it wouldn't have been a good idea with fish), we could hold them and welcome them as a member of the family. It turns out that this is not a good idea for birds either. I was scared of Dory, but I cannot explain my fear for George. They bit us and this was enough to make me dislike and fear going near any birds, Mum ended up being the one to "tame" these somehow-dinosaur-creatures and they both soon died after (we had kept them outside, I can't remember why). My sister though, when my budgie died, buried him without me. I would like to think that it was to save me from attacking his dead budgie corpse as revenge and that it was done out of love; but it wasn't. She was just my sister and she just buried my budgie.

Too many pets, want more. (Part 1)

I've heard of people living with quite a large amount of pets, 7 dogs, 5 cats, 20 fish etc, but I've had my fair share of pets too. Although, unlike these people who currently have 7 dogs, 5 cats and 20 fish, mine are (or were) more over a period of time.

I've grown up usually being around one dog and one cat. Our first dog (I was hardly there to see it though, being a baby and all... actually I'm not even sure if I was there for this dog at all) was called Britannia. She was a British Bulldog because (I think) my father had an obsession for the British Bulldogs, although we never had another one. But he did get a statue... thing... of a British Bulldog, when I was younger I oddly thought that our last dog was actually in it (being a hollow statue (thing) it lead me to thinking such nonsense) and that the statue (thing) was made around the dead dog. I'm assuming I was wrong, as I've never actually approached my father about it... so I'm still a little scared of the statue to this day. For all I know, there's a possibly decomposed corpse lying in my father's dog statue, for anyone at any age this is a greatly concerning matter! Although I think I was told that we had to give Britannia away because we were moving or something like that.

My second dog though was called Monty. He was a Standard Poodle (the really large ones) that at the time was around a few months old (I was probably 3/4 at the time, this was before moving again). We were living on a chestnut or walnut or some other nut farm (although only had a few acres of land, it felt fucking huge), so this poodle, despite usually getting in the way of the tractor (I don't even know what the tractor was used for, we didn't harvest anything or make any profit off the farm, my father's an accountant and my mother works for his accounting firm...), had a large space to run around in. Unfortunately that only made him happier, he seemed to be some sort of ADHD dog on drugs. We sold him because of me, and I don't want to take responsibility for having my dog being sold. He would knock me over (being a lot larger than me even though he was a lot younger than me) and would probably cause a lot of tears. So he's gone too.

My third and current dog (we went without a dog and moved on to other pets for the time in the middle) I got when I was about 7-9, he's a Bichon Frise crossed Maltese. He's loud, very loud. He still looks young although he would be around 5 years old (minimum) and is frickin' adorable, despite his constant yapping and annoyance of course) He's called Harley... after the Harley Davidson. That was one of my obsession phases were motorbikes were the only thing in the world I wanted to pay attention to. Harley wasn't actually planned though. I had hoped to get a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel (CKCS for now) and wanted one (because I wasn't allowed a Great Dane, Saint Bernard or any large dog) like I want to breathe, getting a CKCS would have completed my life, but then my mum's friend's dog had a litter and of course Harley (being one of two in the litter) was a lot cheaper and was known for having less problems than a CKCS. I still love Harley, but would jump at the opportunity to get a CKCS.

This is all supposed to be leading up to something, but it turns out that I'm rambling and that I've written way to long of paragraphs for a pets blog, so I'll put up part two in a couple of days.

5 Things to do With a Destroyed, Rented DVD

I just finished watching the movie, "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" (I haven't seen it for years), and despite the soppy moments and too-happy-of-an-ending, I can say half of it was brilliant.

Half? Only half? Well that's because some candy-eaters who own great big ferocious bears used the rented disk before me. So, who cares about giving it back? (Okay, the store probably really does care as to whether you give it back or not... but who cares if you get kicked out and burned alive for losing their Harry Potter disk*? There's probably an unlimited amount of uses for their DVD's that are way better than using them for what they're intended for!

*I personally do care if I got kicked out of the video rental store, and have only attempted No. 5. I also doubt they (they being the store staff) will burn you alive, if this does happen I do not claim any responsibility and recommend you also inform the police about this... even though you're dead and chances are it is unlikely that you will have the chance to discuss this with anyone.  PS. Ignore Number 5.

1. Guitar picks and other musical accessories.

You can cut these up and make whatever, but what better use than to use those jagged edges to play your brand new guitar, or to cut out a clarinet reed - it's probably the cheapest instrument-accessory-maker you could ever buy!*

*I do not claim any responsibility for cut lips, broken strings or blatantly ruined instruments.


2. Frisbee!

Who doesn't like a good game of Frisbee? But those Frisbee disks are so heavy, not to mention they're hard to throw for the little ones. These DVD disks are easier to handle, easier to see and are sure to blind you with that awesome reflection off the sun - and we know we all love the sun! It's also got that tiny hole where when playing with the dog, he'll catch it in an instant knowing there's something to hook his vicious teeth on to.


3. Free birthday presents.

With the economy having a hissyfit at you every five seconds, it's quite difficult to afford to give your friends their yearly birthday present; but rather than disappoint your friends, why not give them a DVD? When it's not working, tell 'em that you lost the receipt, but they're always appreciate the time and effort you went through to spend your well-earned money on them.

4. Put it in the microwave.

Simply because it makes pretty sparks... now who doesn't like pretty sparks? No seriously, I will gouge you eyes out and give them to someone's pet bear, because sparks are pretty and you must like them.

5. Give it back to the video rental store.

No, you're right, that's really not fun, but it's surely worth that warm fuzzy feeling you get in your heart when you do something right (for once). They might even give you a sticker or a lollipop just so you can stick it on one of their other DVDs and annoy the next person who pays three bucks to watch it.